Room to Talk
by MarieQuiteContrarie
Summary: Brennan Gold and Belle French are rival bank executives who are unaware that they have been talking to each other in a singles' chat room for two months.


_A/N:_ _For my 1,000 follower prompt-a-thon on Tumblr, Beliza-Fryler (Kindleheartzyou) prompted: Meet in a chatroom AU!Rumbelle. This is what came out of that._

It was official. He was going insane.

His lunacy had been confirmed the moment he had agreed to meet a woman from an online chat room in person. At least he thought ( _hoped_?) she was a woman. Gold's blood ran cold at the prospect that MsBooks4Life was someone other than who she professed to be. That was what everyone warned against with these things—you had no idea who you were really meeting. The internet was full of pretenders and psychopaths, and he'd been out of the dating game for eons.

Gold shoved his hands in his pockets and quickened his steps down the snow-slick street, the frigid temperature prompting him to hurry.

 _What the hell was he even doing?_

He slowed as he rounded the corner, approaching his favorite coffee shop with wary steps. It was uncanny, really. The woman he was meeting with was familiar with the quaint village of East Aurora, New York, where he lived. He was rather surprised by her willingness to meet up in his small hometown, rather than venturing into the more metropolitan downtown Buffalo area for drinks. But he was glad. The trendy Chippewa Street bar scene made him feel out-of-touch and uncomfortable, and he had more than his fill of it when he schlepped there for client meetings. Like him, his online friend preferred a quiet life and enjoyed the simple things. To his great pleasure, they shared a fondness for books, proper tea both iced and hot, cheeseburgers doused in ketchup and extra pickles, and hot wings dipped in blue cheese dressing.

MsBooks4Life had even been amenable to not exchanging photos or true names, agreeing to meet him sight unseen. (He was completely inept at taking selfies and he wouldn't dare ask one of his bank colleagues to photograph him.) Gold blushed, remembering how she'd told him that his typing speed made her heart flutter and that she knew he was a handsome man. Then she had offered to give him a smartphone tutorial so he could take selfies whenever he liked.

Alarm bells went off in his head. Looks weren't everything, but attraction was important. What if she had three eyes or two noses or some other such terrible deformity? With nausea bubbling up in his throat, he dragged himself the final ten feet to the door.

Despite his misgivings, knowing they had so much in common made his palms sweat and his heart race with longing. Even though they'd never spoken face-to-face, he felt comfortable with MsBooks4Life. When they chatted, it was as though he'd known her for ages. The more he learned, the more he liked her. As a bank CEO, he was in the business of bottom lines—when added together, all the special details he knew made this woman so much more than a stranger. He took another deep breath to calm his nerves _. It's just coffee_.

Gold stomped the snow from his boots at the door of the coffee shop. Western New York winters were bitter, and he rubbed his reddened, chafed hands together before opening the door, wondering why he had forgone gloves. He took out his pocket watch. It was 7 p.m. on the dot, and Brennan Gold was nothing if not punctual. He scanned the patrons dotting the dimly lit coffeehouse, searching for a pink scarf. Yes, a pink scarf—that was what she'd agreed to wear so he could recognize her.

Gold glimpsed a flash of pink fabric and an attractive silhouette at the counter and smiled, moving forward to introduce himself. Then he froze. _That laugh. He had heard it somewhere before_. In disbelief, he blinked hard, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. His heart sank into his knees. Long brown hair spilled out from beneath a black beret, and a pink woolen scarf was knotted around a long, delicate neck. Beneath an elegant camel coat he glimpsed the fringe of a sensible black skirt. Mile-long, slender legs capped by four-inch-heels stretched all the way to the tile floor. As he looked her up and down, the woman turned her head and cold blue eyes met his. For a moment her gaze widened in surprise, then her chin lifted in challenge.

Gold gripped the Formica counter for support, his fingers slipping as he sought to find purchase on the edge and cover his shock.

 _No._ This simply wasn't possible.

His Internet dream girl, the one he'd been mooning over for two months, was none other than his bitter and longtime rival, Avonlea Bank President Belle French.

###

 _So this was just a little intro, a tease, really. But if people enjoy it I would like to write more. What should happen next, you guys? ;-)_


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